


Crowning the Queen

by Weemamee



Series: Duskendale AU [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, One Shot, Second-Hand Embarrassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 09:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16082903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weemamee/pseuds/Weemamee
Summary: One-shot from the same universe as "Vessels of Fate". A glimpse into the life of Rhaegar and Lyanna as newlyweds.





	Crowning the Queen

**Middle of 282 AC - King’s Landing**  
  
_Rhaegar POV_

 

The early morning sun streaked from a gap in the heavy curtains. The light had annoyed him when it woke him from his slumber, but now it aided him.  
  
Lyanna’s thighs tightened as he slowly traced his tongue against her. The smell of her was intoxicating. Her moans were soft and muffled from her legs against his ears, but he was abetted by her hand in his hair.  
  
_“Your Grace?”_  
  
Rhaegar was focused on his task. The call was a near whisper, and in his frenzied mind, he ignored it.  
  
“Gods,” Lyanna let out as a low curse, and in response, he added another finger. “ _Yes!_ Please—”  
  
The events that followed was something he had feared in his youth but had never occurred until now.  
  
A loud clatter echoed in the chamber as a cupbearer dropped the platter and chalices he carried. Rhaegar abruptly pulled away from his wife’s thighs to stare at the faces of a dozen wide-eyed servants—most who were boys no older than two and five. The shock wore off as he glanced to Lyanna’s horror-stricken face.

Blood rushed through his veins as mortification overwhelmed him.  
  
“Get out. _Now_ ,” Rhaegar ordered with more calm than he felt.  
  
The servants crushed against each other as they rushed back through the door—which closed with a loud slam as the last one left the room.  
  
He was frozen in the aftermath, staring at the dropped silver and puddles of lemon water near the bed. Eventually, he worked up the nerve to look at his bride.

Lyanna’s dark hair was blanketed across the pillows. Her lean body slightly glistened from their earlier exploits. One arm was pulled tight across her chest with the other covering her face.

Silence filled the room until he called out to her softly.

In a near-tearful voice, she replied, “I shall never leave this room.”  
  
Rhaegar’s heart slowed as he continued to take in the sight of her. The mood from before had been spoiled by the interruption, and he felt himself start to soften. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before carefully resting beside her on the bed.  
  
“Only the room? If I can find my sword, I shall gladly fall upon it,” Rhaegar jested in turn. With a sigh, he pushed back his sweat-soaked hair with his fingers.  
  
“Please end my life before you do,” she whimpered.  
  
He waited a moment before letting out a small chuckle. Lyanna shifted her arm to glare at him. He returned her look with a smile and small kiss to her lips. Her ire easily broke, and she giggled at the absurdity of their situation. Before he knew it, they were holding each other as they lost themselves to laughter.

\----

  
“I heard you gave the pages quite an education,” The Sword of the Morning said with a toothy grin, almost larger than his face. “The servants do not know what to make of it, however. For you are no mere lord.”  
  
Rhaegar covered his eyes with his palms. Perhaps a hole would form and swallow him up from underneath the castle.  
  
“I suggested _The Kneeling King_ or _Crowning the Queen_ , but I fear they have weakly settled on _The King’s Kiss_.”  
  
“Enough, Arthur,” Rhaegar sighed and turned to glare at the knight. “Lyanna is still horrified as am I.”  
  
“She’ll be lucky to avoid a reprimand from the ‘Mother’s Circle’ for not pushing out an heir before enjoying bedsport.”

Rhaegar rolled his eyes at the mention of his mother’s ladies—none of them would be so bold. Lady Olenna was thankfully in Highgarden preparing to meet her newest grandchild. Otherwise, Arthur would be correct.

“As unfortunate as it was, perhaps it will end any rumors of our marriage being disagreeable,” Rhaegar said with a tilt of his head. Tytos had told him the tongues of the court had waggled after Lyanna’s outburst a week prior. His wife was sharp-witted and often wiser than her years, but she had shown a lack of maturity at the time.

Rhaegar did not recall how the argument had started or what it had been about, but it had ended with his wife screaming and storming away from him. It took a near three days before she spoke to him or visited his chambers. Jon Connington had japed that their love-sickness had ended, but the argument had troubled Rhaegar. He still did not know what he had done to upset her.

Focusing on the issue at hand, he said, “At any rate, I fear I shall need to make certain a similar _incident_ will not occur again.” With that, he looked back at Arthur and ordered, “I want Ser Gerold to devise a new procedure for security in the mornings.”

His friend at least attempted to hide his grin. “I will speak to the old bull and give you his recommendations.”

“You have my thanks,” he replied tightly.

After Arthur’s departure, Rhaegar focused on the Night's Watch reports from his grand-uncle. Amongst the numbers of rations and men, there were stories of a ranging party who had survived a shadowcat attack and of three wildings who had attempted to climb the Wall. Maester Aemon also wrote of a brother who had abandoned the Shadow Tower to live in the lands beyond. Once again, his grand-uncle proved to be quite the wordsmith.

Rhaegar set the letters aside to show his wife later in the day. Perhaps stories from the north would cheer her.

 

* * *

 

_Lyanna’s POV_

 

It had been four days, yet Lyanna could not look any of the servants in the eye. Her cheeks felt as though they were aflame ever since she left Rhaegar’s chambers. Never before had she felt so embarrassed.

It had been an unfortunate accident, but one she had to move on from—at least that is what Lady Donella had told her. The Queen Mother had offered similar words. Their kind counseling had elicited a round of giggles from all their ladies. Poor Jeyne Darry had been confused until Lady Donella had taken her aside. The girl had been wide-eyed and blushing when she helped Lyanna ready for bed later that night.

The incident had caused Lyanna so much stress that she had taken ill. She had tried to perform her duties, but exhaustion had taken hold of her. Her dear husband suggested that she rest rather than worry over petitioners and lessons.

So, today she had sent everyone away except for Berena. Her dear friend read to her from a book of adventures as Lyanna dozed throughout the morning. By midday, she felt revitalized enough that she had Berena help her dress for a ride out to Blackwater Rush.

Of her ladies, only Lady Barbrey was skilled enough to be her riding companion. Her brother’s wife was an accomplished rider. Lyanna had her good-sister summoned as she ate a light meal served in her chambers.

After Barbrey arrived, Ser Jonothor and Ser Arthur escorted them through the Red Keep to the stables. They were followed by a larger group of ladies and guards who would be accompanying them. As they walked down the winding serpentine steps, Lyanna kept her nose up and avoided the curious glances from the other occupants of the keep. Rhaella’s words washed over her as she did. _Ignore them. They only envy your happiness, my dear._

They reached the bottom of the stairs shortly. Lyanna took four steps towards the courtyard before a stench hit her.

Her father often jested that she was half raised in the stables. The smell of wet hay and manure was an unpleasant scent one grew accustomed to over time.

This was different.

Lyanna raised the back of her hand to her mouth and tried to smell the leather of her glove instead of the odor. Her knees buckled slightly, and Barbrey steadied her by catching her waist.

“My queen?” Her good-sister asked, concerned.

Lyanna could feel her meal churning in her belly, but she pressed her lips together and willed it away. She merely shook her head and took a step back before whispering, “I am afraid I am unwell.”

Ser Jonothor had his weapon half-drawn as he ordered for the group behind them to move to the side.

“Are you able to walk, Your Grace?” Ser Arthur’s melodic tone drew her attention to him. Not for the first time she noticed the man looked similar to her husband with his pale blond hair and eyes of purple. Eyes that had doubled upon looking at him.

Sweat broke across her skin as her mouth filled with water as another wave of nausea hit.

His purple eyes faded as her vision went to back.

 

\----

 

Lyanna woke groggily but quickly became aware that she was being carried. As her mind grew sharper, she realized Ser Arthur was walking them into the main entrance of the Maidenvault.

She winced as someone yelled for Maester Ebrose.

The Dornishman saw that she was awake and gently asked, “How do you feel, Your Grace?”

She was given no time to answer before they were ushered to a small room with an even smaller bed. They were closely followed by Barbrey—her good-sister’s face was pulled tight with worry.

Once settled, she felt her blood rush through her veins. Pinpricks tickled her scalp as she leaned up to rest against the back of the bed.

“Your Grace?” Barbrey’s normally sharp tone was subdued.

She looked up to see three of the kingsguards crowding the room. Their white armor gleamed in the low light of the chambers. She did not know when Ser Barristan had accompanied them, but he must have been close by.

“I am fine, good-sister,” Lyanna said, but even her own voice sounded weak to her ears.

“What did you eat, Your Grace?” Ser Barristan’s voice was soft as Ser Arthur's had been. “We have sent for Lady Hornwood as she was the last of your company. Did she dine with you as well?”

“No. I don’t believe it was the food. I smelt—” Bile rose up in her throat at the thought, and she held the back of her hand to her mouth. “I had an aversion to the stables.”

The Sword of the Morning’s brows drew in thought, and he looked to Ser Jonothor. In a quiet tone, he ordered, “Go to the stables. See if any fallen dogs are about. The pig yards as well. The last thing we need is sickness to spread throughout the keep.”

Ser Jonothor gave a short nod and passed through the door.

“Where is Rhaegar?” She asked, forgetting herself.

“The King is holding a council meeting in the throne room. A page has been sent to notify him, Your Grace,” Ser Barristan said in response. Lyanna inclined her head to show she understood.

A winded Maester Ebrose walked into the compact chamber and asked for the remaining kingsguard for privacy. Berena entered on his heels, still carrying an embroidery she had been working on. The maester summoned a servant, who brought in two pitchers of water with steam coming off one of them.

For more light, the maester moved the curtains and forced open a window. As a result, dust filled the air and caused both her ladies to sneeze.

After Maester Ebrose opened his bag and laid out a few utensils, he began asking Lyanna questions about her last meal and symptoms. Barbrey began sneezing so often that the older man sent her good-sister out of the room.

The maester pressed a warm hand to Lyanna’s forehead before wetting a cloth. In a kind voice, he asked, “How long have you felt this fatigue?”

“It comes in waves,” Lyanna replied as he set the cool cloth upon her brow. She watched as the man used a candle to light a stick of sweet-smelling herbs on fire. She also noticed the top of Ser Arthur’s head as he took his post outside the window.

“Usually during the mornings,” piped Berena.

“When do you break your fast, Your Grace?” The man asked as he set about mixing powder from his bag with a cup of hot water.

“Early morning.” She felt her nausea subside as the burning herbs settled around the room. “Later if—”

Lyanna felt her cheeks burn, but finished by saying, “If I visit the King’s chambers.”

The maester hummed and nodded, unaffected by her words or her embarrassment.

“When is the last time you have made water?”

“Before we left for the stables and near two times before that,” Lyanna said with slight frustration. She had been so full the past few days—so much she had quit drinking wine at dinner in hopes of lessening her bladder.

Maester glanced at her a full second before asking Berena to leave the room. Panic ran through her as she wondered what the man had to say. Her lady left dutifully but sent her a worried glance as she did.

He waited until the door was closed before asking, “Your Grace, when was your last moon’s blood?”

Lyanna stilled as the realization hit her. Her breasts held some soreness, but that had been normal for the time of month. It was only four weeks ago that she had feared it would arrive early and ruin Rhaegar's bedding. However, her duties had occupied her mind so much that the worry had escaped her.

“Congratulations are in order by the look on your face, my queen.” Maester Ebrose gave a small laugh. She was rendered speechless with astonishment as he packed away his belongings. With a kind smile, he said, “I have brewed a remedy for the mother’s sickness. For now, rest is what you will need. Your strength will return within a turn of the moon.”

He handed her the powdered-water he had fixed earlier, and she continued to sit in disbelief.

“We’ve only been married for two months,” she said in a daze.

“Many brides are even quicker than that, my dear,” he replied with a snort. The maester’s brows grew close as concern took over his face. “What of your mother’s pregnancies? Did she carry all of you to term? Were any of your siblings lost in the cradle?”

Lyanna stared at him before answering, “Sh-she had all four of us with ease. One loss between Ned and I, but the babe was too early.”

“Keep caution on your heart, Your Grace,” the man said in a careful tone. “It is not uncommon to experience such loss. I would say you’re only a moon and half at most. The Queen Mother lost many before the cradle—though we shall never know have much Pycelle was at fault.”

A chill swept over Lyanna as she inwardly repeated his words. She nodded at him before taking a small sip of the drink.

“May I journey back to Maegor’s Holdfast? I am afraid these rooms have not been dusted since his majesty’s coronation,” Lyanna said with a smile. The old man returned it before inclining his head.

“Yes, Your Grace. I will accompany you up the winding stairs. At my pace, the journey shall be slow and steady.”

 

\----

 

The afternoon was fading as she made it to her rooms. Her ladies had been curious, but Lyanna had remained silent on what the maester had told her. Finally, alone, she laid fully clothed on top of her bed.

She was with child.

Lyanna did not feel any different—other than a slight soreness and fatigue. She would have felt the same had she ridden all afternoon.

At first, she wondered if the maester had been mistaken. Yet, Lyanna remembered the moods she had experienced over the past few weeks. She could not remember what Rhaegar had said to her, but he had set off her temper the other day. There had been many recent occasions where she had felt out of control of her emotions. The sick little boy she had met whilst visiting the school her husband had built—she had sobbed inconsolably in her bath afterward. Other memories filled her as she remembered her revulsion to duck from dinner the week before. The sharp ache in her belly one morning that came with no blood.

The door to her room opened quickly, and she shot upright on the bed.

Her dear husband stood before her, and he looked as though he had sprinted all the way from the throne room. Sweat stained his silk doublet and glistened his flushed face. His silver hair was disheveled and had become loose from his braid.

“Curse my blood for building such nonsensical stairs.” He was breathless as he closed the door and walked closer to where she now stood. "I ran as quickly as I could."

“I can tell, my love,” Lyanna said with a laugh. She touched his sweaty brow before turning to a nearby basin. Wetting a cloth, she handed it to him as she poured a cup of water to ease his breathing.

“I was told you fainted, that you had taken ill,” he said while wildly staring into her eyes.

“They worried you for naught. Maester Ebrose saw over me.” Nervousness caused a flutter in her belly. She had not thought of how to tell him.

“What did the maester say?”

“I was told—” Lyanna stopped herself. Her cheeks felt flushed, and she let out a small laugh before looking over to him. His dark silvered brows were drawn tight as he stared at her with concern.

Feeling half a fool, Lyanna took a small breath before saying, “Rhaegar, I carry our child.”

She watched as his eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. Even shock looked beautiful on his face.

“Truly?” He asked. His voice was deep, even lower than usual.

Lyanna nodded as she brought her hand down to the curve of her middle. She was still flat, yet the action gave her an unexplainable comfort. She watched as his eyes tracked her moving hand.

As though woken from a dream, he sprang from where he stood and gathered her in his arms. Warmth enveloped her as did his heady scent and she felt tears start to form. He kissed the top of her head before pulling away slightly to look at her. His dark indigo eyes were also wet with emotion.

“Gods, Lyanna,” he uttered softly. His hand slightly trembled as it joined hers over their growing babe. “I thought—”

He swallowed his words before uttering with reverence, “This brings me so much joy.”

“Maester Ebrose cautioned that it is early. A moon and a half, perhaps.” She worried her lip remembering the man’s words, but Rhaegar’s warm kiss eased her thoughts.

“I will refrain from ringing the castle bells,” he said with a laugh before kissing her once more. “But nothing can affect my happiness, _ñuhys raqiarzy_.”

Rhaegar’s smile was so bright, and she felt her heart swell with love. The memory of her mother’s loss faded as well as she let the elation take over her.

A child.

A babe of their own.

**Author's Note:**

> **Valyrian translation: _ñuhys raqiarzy_ = my beloved**
> 
> This was the fastest chapter that I have ever written. The phrase "I heard you gave the pages quite an education" popped into my mind one morning and the story grew from there. I'm currently 9 weeks pregnant, so I'm 100% there with Lyanna on the symptoms. A few spoilers for VoF, but not enough to be too damning. :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
